


The Captain and the Shore

by neveralarch



Category: Suradanna and the Sea - Rebecca Fraimow
Genre: F/F, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-14 15:35:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13010826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveralarch/pseuds/neveralarch
Summary: It takes a few decades to really get to know a person. Especially when they keep changing; especially when they're unsure of themselves.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sophia_sol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophia_sol/gifts).



> Happy yuletide, sophia_sol! Thanks for giving me an excuse to read this great novella again (and again, and again...)
> 
> Suradanna and the Sea is a fantasy novella published by the Fantasist, which you can read [free online](http://thefantasistmag.com/suradanna-and-the-sea/).
> 
> This fic contains off-screen supporting character death, including a funeral. Please let me know if you need details.

Suradanna woke up in the middle of the night, which wasn’t unusual. She’d heard that you needed less sleep as you got older. Suradanna never seemed to _want_ less sleep, but over the last century she’d slept in fits and dozes, fighting for six hours of sleep from eight hours spent lying in bed.

There was a warm arm wrapped around Suradanna’s midriff, which was unusual. At least recently. Suradanna blinked slowly and breathed until she managed to remember what had happened, who she was with. She found she was smiling. She closed her eyes to savor it before carefully turning over, trying not to loosen the captain’s arm. She’d lull herself back to sleep by watching the captain snore.

But the captain was awake—had been awake, Suradanna thought, for some time. Her light gray eyes looked black in the dim yellow gaslight, spilling through the window from the street. Her mouth was only a few inches from Suradanna’s own.

“Go to sleep,” said Suradanna.

“I will,” murmured the captain, seriously. “Don’t worry.”

Her arm pulled Suradanna closer, until Suradanna was tucked against the captain’s skin, her legs tangled with the captain’s legs, her cheek pressed against the captain’s chest. Suradanna wasn’t falling asleep, not quite, but she felt drunk on the soft hair that ran down the captain’s thighs and the rough callouses on her palm. The captain was stroking circles into Suradanna’s back. Suradanna bit her lip and didn’t shriek from joy, didn’t throw up her hands in victory, didn’t dance on the bed. It was late, and Suradanna was—wasn’t—was falling asleep.

She did say: “I’m glad you came to me.”

The captain’s hand didn’t pause. She might not have heard Suradanna, the words mumbled into the captain’s collarbone. The captain tucked her chin over Suradanna’s head and breathed long and deep, the sound of it in her chest loud against Suradanna’s ear. Suradanna was drowning.

She thought she heard the captain say “what else was there?” But Suradanna’s eyes were closed, and her mind was fading. It was hard to tell what was real and what was a dream.

\---

In the morning, Suradanna walked quickly through Suradan House, spinning round to walk backwards and point out all the little details to the captain. She’d forgotten how old she was supposed to be, and she couldn’t quite force herself to keep up the pretense when the captain was _here_ and _smiling_. Suradanna’s cane was held loosely in one hand, used for emphasis rather than support. Little peals of laughter spilled from her lips, nothing like the mature chuckle she’d cultivated this lifetime.

“That’s the house sigil.” Suradanna gestured at the phoenix emblem carved just above the west windows in the great meeting room. “We’ll have to come back at sunset—the light shines through beautifully, like the whole wall is catching fire.”

The captain considered the phoenix with an expression that Suradanna thought was _fond_ , oh. “Was that your good idea?”

Suradanna couldn’t help another laugh. “No, no, the architect’s. But I did design the sigil. Well, I described the sigil, and an artist actually designed it. Come through here, you can see my office—“

Someone knocked gently on the door, and Suradanna caught her breath, forced her shoulders to slump and her back to curve. She leant on her cane and pursed her lips in a way that drew out lines around her mouth. She hoped that the egg-white paint would disguise her blush, though there was nothing to be done about the shine in her eyes. The captain watched Suradanna's transformation with amusement. Of course, she'd never had to pretend to be older-younger than she was. The sea was ageless, without the memories of the shore.

“Come in,” called Suradanna, her voice creaking.

Zuradankiher opened the door and bowed. "Suradanna-zsi, I’ve been looking for you. I have your schedule for the day.” She held up her tablet, and then smiled stiffly as she noticed the captain. “Is this a guest?" Her eyes flicked over the captain's clothing, no less travel-stained for having been slept in overnight. Suradanna didn’t own anything that could have possibly fit.

"The captain is visiting," said Suradanna. "But she’s lost her luggage. She needs clothes, and toiletries—you must clear some time in my schedule."

Zuradankiher was making changes already, rubbing away marks from her tablet with a cloth, and making new notes with the little chalk pencil. It probably wouldn't be much trouble. House Suradan was one of the most successful Houses in Salamadan Port, but Salamadan Port itself was sunken in stature. There were few captains to meet with, fewer traders.

"I'll make an appointment at Mardanesh," said Zuradankiher. "You'll have to keep your morning meeting with the shareholders, but I think I can pry most of the day free. Will you be staying long, Captain…"

The captain filled the silence with her name, and Suradanna felt herself bristle. It was so easy, the syllables passed from mouth to mouth without centuries of curiosity and longing. It felt worse when Zuradankiher looked at the captain for a moment and then repeated the name without honorific, the captain's status unrecognized, unknown.

Honorifics were fading from use, Suradanna knew, just as the precise salutes of her youth had almost disappeared, only preserved in their misuse by historical plays. Zuradankiher’s _Suradanna-zsi_ and careful bows were concessions to Suradanna’s aged sensibilities. It wasn't an insult for Zuradankiher to omit the honorific, especially with a stranger who might be of any age.

But it grated.

"I have to go to my meeting," said Suradanna. "Just for an hour, I think, and then you’ll have me for the rest of the day. Zuradankiher-li, can you take care of _the captain_? Show her whatever she'd like to see."

"Of course," Zuradankiher smiled. "This way, captain."

That was better.

The captain smiled as they left, and Suradanna could have read a dozen emotions into the subtle curve of the captain’s mouth. Something was bubbling in Suradanna’s throat, and she coughed to keep herself from letting it out.

\---

The meeting was boring, pointless. Land and sea trade routes were becoming impassable; no one had any good ideas for what to do about it. Suradanna forced her feet still, resisted the urge to doodle on her chalk tablet. She got up slowly from the table when the meeting was done, and kept her steps small and careful as she left the room.

"The captain is in the library." Zuradankiher offered her arm, and Suradanna tried to take it with gratitude rather than impatience.

"I'm glad you rescheduled my meetings," Suradanna confided. It was safer to confide her irritation, rather than let it fester and leave Zuradankiher to wonder at its source. "I couldn't stand a whole day with Vakrinza, the fool."

"That's what you always say," murmured Zuradankiher. "And yet you always survive."

"It's more surprising that he survives," said Suradanna, and displayed her deep and mature chuckle. 

The captain was sitting with a book, a glass of juice at her elbow. Suradanna waited until Zuradankiher closed the door, and then straightened, letting the pretended fractions of years fall from her spine. "What are you reading?"

The captain shrugged. When Suradanna peered over her shoulder, she found pictures of sea monsters and zuiran. A navigating book. She wondered if the captain could read the modern Lalidani script—Suradanna read it easily and write it fluently, but the now-ancient Lalidani and Alameidan she'd grown up with always came more easily. There were more _letters_ now than there'd once been. They'd never needed so many before.

"We'll go to the tailors so you can change," said Suradanna. "And you can buy whatever else you need. I don't know if you have any money, but I can loan you—" She caught herself, her trader's instincts, but the captain was nodding.

"I'll pay you back," said the captain. "As long as the interest's not too much."

“I offer _very_ good terms.” Suradanna offered the captain a hand and drew her out of the chair—though it had to be admitted that the captain didn’t lean too much of her own weight against Suradanna’s. When they left Suradan House it was Suradanna leaning on the captain’s arm. 

Oh, Suradanna resented their slow pace. She wanted to pull the captain along, half-running from the financial district and into the marketplace. But oh, did Suradanna feel smug about her position at the captain’s side. It was almost worth being old.

"Your assistant seemed familiar," said the captain.

"You met one of her ancestors, He Quier. She was a waitress at the Salt Anchor."

The captain laughed. "I remember. You chased her away from me."

"I wanted to talk to you." Suradanna frowned, suppressing the feeling of being laughed at.

"Oh, I know." The captain patted her arm. "I'm glad you did. I wasn't then, but I am now."

Suradanna wanted to catch the captain's hands and spin her in the street. Mine, mine, mine, she wanted to say. She’d waited long enough. But she was the honored Suradanna-zsi again. Salamadan Port was watching. There were other, better ways to lay claim.

\---

The tailors and the shopkeepers all called the captain by her name, either without honorific or with -li. It was the captain's fault for introducing herself; it was the merchants' fault for not recognizing the captain's seniority. It was Suradanna's fault for being bothered by it.

Suradanna felt like she was crawling out of her skin.

She hated the look that the tailor gave her when Suradanna picked the color of the captain's vest, a bright blue that offset the deep orange-red of Suradanna's silk skirts. She hated the look that the merchant gave her when Suradanna picked the best soap out of a basket and gave it to the captain to smell. She especially hated the look that the captain gave her when Suradanna complained.

"They think I'm a toy of yours." The captain laughed, the second time in less than three hours. Suradanna should be grateful, but she still felt rubbed raw.

"It's insulting," fumed Suradanna. She’d wanted to leave her mark on the captain, but not in a way that framed the captain as her _subordinate_ , as her—

"What would you think?" asked the captain. "An established, respected trader, buying clothes and luxuries for the young foreigner on her arm?"

"Soap isn't a luxury," said Suradanna. "I'm on _your_ arm. And you're not young!"

The captain actually leaned down and brushed her lips over Suradanna's forehead. "Are you always this offended by the world?"

 _It's easier for you_ , thought Suradanna. _The sea isn't supposed to know your age. The sea doesn't change._ But then she thought a moment more, and was glad she hadn't said it.

Her cane was a fine thing, dark carved wood inlaid with light shells. Zuradankiher had a tendency to stare at it during idle moments, and Suradanna had already made a point of leaving it to Zuradankiher in her will. It was only this sense of obligation that stopped Suradanna from tossing it away, suddenly resentful of the trappings of age that didn’t command her enough respect but still set her apart from the captain.

"Do you need anything else?" she asked instead.

"No," said the captain.

“Do you want to go to the docks?” asked Suradanna. She found herself pressing at the captain as if at a wound. “There might be a few ships for sale, if you think—“

“No,” said the captain, more firmly. She looked away from Suradanna and then slowed, her gaze caught by a little bookbinder’s shop.

“Sure you don’t need anything?” asked Suradanna.

“Yes,” said the captain, and then bit her lip.

“Then let me make you a gift,” purred Suradanna, and steered them inside.

She hated the way the salesgirl looked at her in this shop, too, but the captain’s eyes were warm and surprised as she picked out a thick blank book, a sturdy pen. Suradanna thought she could bear anything for the warmth of her captain’s eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Suradanna lost patience with being the aged head of House Suradan quickly, only a decade after the captain arrived.

She couldn’t _do_ anything when she was old. She couldn’t travel, unless it was critically important. If she did travel, she was wrapped round with shawls and guarded by at least a dozen companions. She couldn’t supervise work within the House, only supervise the managers. If she did supervise them, they explained their business slowly and simply, as if her pretended hearing impairments extended to her intelligence. Vakrinza, the fool, was even trying to exclude her from shareholder meetings, claiming they were too taxing to her health.

Suradanna was used to this degradation of her power. The same cycle happened lifetime after lifetime. The long climbing years of youth and inexperience, the brief peak of reliability and influence, the slow slide of presumed senility. She’d learned to cultivate confidantes. Zuradankiher believed in her and supported her against Vakrinza, doing all of the little things a good aide could do to undermine her opponents within the House.

But even Zuradankiher regarded the captain with condescension and a little distaste.

“I don’t like seeing idle hands,” she said over tea and over Suradanna’s objections that she really didn’t want to have this conversation again. “What does the captain _do_?”

Write, mostly. There were four fat books of the captain’s crabbed handwriting, in a language Suradanna didn’t understand. She’d offered to buy the captain a ship at least three or four times, but the captain didn’t want “one of those metal monstrosities.” Then Suradanna had offered to build the captain a classical wooden ship, but the captain’s expression had been frozen and distant. Suradanna had hastily retracted the offer, and the captain had settled back into her chair by the fire and dipped her pen back into the ink.

“She makes me happy,” said Suradanna, which was true enough.

“Well,” said Zuradankiher, not quite mollified. “I suppose you can afford it.”

Suradanna paid for their tea and hobbled home, almost shaking with repressed bile. Soon she would be free of the trappings of the great Suradanna-zsi, and only that prospect kept her this calm. 

She’d spent two years arranging her death. There was a very important meeting in Dhalmar about the F’mar Alliance contract, important enough to justify the presence of Suradanna-zsi. It was storm season, and if Suradanna was lucky there would be a storm at night, near the border. Her tent would be found empty, her horse loose and her belongings scattered. If Suradanna was unlucky the storm would be less conveniently timed, but there would always be some storm to disguise her departure. 

“It seems cruel to poor Alarren,” said the captain, listening patiently as Suradanna explained the details of her escape. “He’s responsible for you as the caravan-guide, isn’t he?”

“He’ll be all right.” Suradanna paced, her hair falling from its pins and swinging in loose braids around her shoulders. “Everyone knows what the storms are like. Everyone knows the Dhal border is dangerous. The shareholders will blame themselves for letting me go. Hopefully they’ll blame Vakrinza, that fool, I let him tell everyone that it was his idea to honor the F’mar by including me in the delegation.”

The captain smiled to herself and didn’t look up from her writing. It had still taken Vakrinza and Suradanna arguing together—together!—to convince the shareholders that Suradanna’s presence would be an invaluable sign of commitment. One of the shareholders, Suradanna couldn’t remember her name but it was Latly’s daughter, had even suggested that Suradanna might take ill in the foreign climate. It was barely a week’s journey!

"When I was young," said Suradanna, "we respected our elders. We didn't coddle them!"

"I'm sure." The captain was still writing, but she held out her free hand and Suradanna came to take it. The alphabet the captain used was no longer unfamiliar, after years spent looking over her shoulder. It was still indecipherable. Suradanna thought it might be the captain’s native language, but she didn’t like to ask. 

"I'm so ready to be young again." Suradanna rested her chin on the captain's shoulder.

"Do you like being young?" The captain rested her pen on the inkwell, stretched her cramped hand. "Your House will ignore your opinions, and you'll have to be respectful to other people. Even Vakrinza, I think."

Suradanna sighed. "Every age has problems. I think thirty-five is the perfect age, but you can only be thirty-five for a few years before people become suspicious. Anyway, I have a plan this time."

"Mhm." The captain wasn't very curious about Suradanna's plans. She seemed content to sit and write, to have dinner with Suradanna and to occasionally stand by the docks and watch the iron ships with an impassive look of disgust on her face. Suradanna thought that the captain was mourning, and she wasn't sure when it would end.

"Do you want to publish your book?" asked Suradanna. "We could hire someone to translate it. I'm sure people would buy it."

"Are you so eager to be repaid?" asked the captain.

Suradanna shook her head, her loose braids brushing against the captain's neck. She kept a meticulous ledger of her loans to the captain, of the interest and the captain's payments. The balance was small, now. The captain occasionally made money on the docks, advising other captains on the best route through the zuiran, and she had few expenses. But Suradanna still kept the ledger. It would mean something, to simply erase the debt, and she didn't think she was ready for it.

"I don't think anyone in Salamadan Port can translate this," said the captain. "I'd be surprised if anyone in the world could."

"There's always someone," said Suradanna, and then changed tack. "You could dictate it, if you like."

"No." The captain touched the dry ink on the page, something raw in her eyes. "These words aren't meant for anyone else."

That bit at Suradanna. She wondered if the captain would read a page to her, if she asked. She didn't want to ask it and be denied.

"Tell me if you ever do want to publish something," she said. She curled her arm around the captain's waist, and the captain didn't push her away.

"How will you get back?" asked the captain. "After you leave the caravan."

"I'll walk. Not all the way, just from the border to the nearest village. I'll get a horse and cut my hair, and ride back just in time to hear the reading of my will."

"Can I come get you?" asked the captain.

Suradanna beamed at the back of the captain’s head. "No, I'm sorry, no. It's very important that you're here, so no one can suspect you of my murder."

The captain snorted. "You're not leaving _me_ any of your money."

"I'm leaving you the apartment," said Suradanna. "And my jewelry. And you can't ride a horse."

The captain turned to a new page.

"Stay here and write." Suradanna kissed the captain's cheek. She always felt like she was getting away with something when the captain didn't object. "I'll be back before you know it."

\---

Suradanna straggled back into Salamadan Port with a twisted ankle and a horse that didn't like her. These things were related, unfortunately.

She wanted to go back to her comfortable apartments and see the captain, but that would be too suspicious. She stayed at an inn instead, waiting for Alarren's letter to arrive and the sad news to permeate the Port.

It took longer than Suradanna had expected. She wondered how long Alarren had looked for her in the deserts between Salamadan Port and Dhalmar. Too long, probably. Alarren was a little sentimental, and he’d known Suradanna since he was a child and his father had worked for the House.

It was a week before the will was read, a week that Suradanna spent with her feet up. She was still limping when she reached House Suradan.

This was what you got for wanting something too much. Here was Suradanna, free to be young and careless, and she was hobbling rather than skipping. Or, Suradanna thought more practically, this was what you got for buying the cheapest horse in the lot.

Zuradankiher herself opened the door. Suradanna wondered if she’d been demoted to greeter in Suradanna-zsi’s absence, or if Zuradankiher had promoted herself in order to control who went in and out of the House.

"I'm sorry," said Zuradankiher. "We're closed for business today, if you'd like to come back—"

"I'm here for Suradanna-zsi," chirped Suradanna. "My great-aunt, you know, my namesake. Is she in?"

Zuradankiher's face fell as she took in the likeness, saw past the short hair and the fashionably-styled eyebrows to the unmistakable nose and the generous ears. Suradanna let her smile stiffen in response. It _was_ nice to be young, to have mobile and responsive expressions.

“You haven’t heard,” said Zuradankiher.

“I’m sorry?” asked Suradanna.

Zuradankiher gave herself a little shake, and loosened her grip on the edge of the door. “You’d better come in.”

Suradanna took Zuradankiher's arm to make it up the many staircases within the House and silently cursed her hubris again. "My horse doesn't like me very much," Suradanna confided. "Or I'm not a very good rider. Or both. Is something—did something happen to Suradanna-zsi?"

"She's... gone." Zuradankiher sighed. "She went missing during a trip to Dhalmar, during a storm. The caravan-leader searched for miles around, but he couldn’t find a trace of her.” 

Zuradankiher’s eyes were red-rimmed and strained. Suradanna squeezed her arm and let her remorse come through as shock. 

“You’re just in time.” Zuradankiher said that with suspicion, very good, but Suradanna made questioning noises and looked ineffectual and let Zuradankiher think that grief was making her paranoid. Zuradankiher led her down the hallways, toward the great meeting room. “Normally we'd wait to read the will, but she was very elderly. I hate to say it, but I doubt she’ll be found. And she was the majority shareholder, which means someone will have to be her proxy. It’s just better to know what’s in her will, it would be irresponsible otherwise.”

Suradanna was very glad that she’d had so many talks with Zuradankiher about what to do in the event of her death. Even some of the phrasing was the same. “I’m sure that’s exactly what Suradanna-zsi would have wanted,” she said, and patted Zuradankiher’s arm.

The great meeting room was filled with shareholders, employees, and hopeful friends. The captain sat alone by the west windows, the setting sun lighting her back. There was an empty chair on either side of her. Zuradankiher looked hopelessly for alternative seats, but Suradanna was already steering them to the obvious choice.

"Hello, I'm Suradanna." Suradanna tried to manufacture an appropriate expression, but what _was_ the appropriate expression for ‘friendly but also just found out that my great-aunt is missing, presumed dead.’ Hopefully this. "Not Suradanna-zsi, obviously. Did you know my great-aunt?"

The captain just looked at her. Suradanna had decided to be very eccentric in this lifetime. Her dyed-red and straightened hair hung around her cheekbones, short and easy to manage. She wore loose trousers and a tight blouse; no rings on her fingers but a heavy gold chain around her neck. It was plated gold, not solid, but she liked the weight of it.

It only occurred to Suradanna now that she looked like some half-imitation of the captain as she'd first met her. She felt herself flushing the longer the captain stared.

Zuradankiher pronounced names, making Suradanna flinch as usual. "The captain was your aunt's..."

"Companion," said the captain, smoothly filling in Zuradankiher's hesitation.

"You must tell me all about her!" cried Suradanna, dropping into the seat on the captain's left. Zuradankiher sat grudgingly at the captain's right. "I last met my aunt when I was... five, I think, or perhaps six, but we exchanged letters. She told me to visit whenever I liked, but I'm afraid," Suradanna let her eyes glisten, and bit her lip. "Oh, I'm afraid I was too late."

The captain patted Suradanna's shoulder. Zuradankiher glared. Suradanna wondered if Zuradankiher had hoped to be Suradanna's beneficiary, if the late arrival of lovers and relatives made her feel shut out of Suradanna-zsi's legacy. Or perhaps Zuradankiher just wanted them to be quiet. The will was about to be read.

There was a long list of small bequests. Suradanna hadn't wanted anyone to feel slighted, this time. In the past she'd used her will ruthlessly, chuckling to herself about the feuds and grudges that would result from every line. But she liked her House, despite Vakrinza's occasional irritations. She wanted them to remember her fondly.

She’d given quite a bit of money to Zuradankiher, along with her cane. Zuradankiher seemed pleased with that, though a few tears spilled across her cheeks. Suradanna had left the cane behind in her tent, and she hoped that Alarren brought it back soon.

The solicitor named the captain, which made Suradanna wince again and the captain sit straighter in her chair. Nearly everyone was looking at them. First their eyes would run over the captain, judging, and then flick to Suradanna and note the resemblance. 

"To the captain, I leave my apartment and all it contains," intoned the solicitor. The stares sharpened on the captain, and the captain stared back impassively.

"And to the granddaughter of my sister, Suradanna-li," continued the solicitor, "I leave my shares. That's the last of it. Very brief and to the point, as was typical of Suradanna-zsi."

People were looking at Suradanna, murmuring behind their hands and even occasionally pointing at her. She smiled back, all innocent confusion.

"Does anyone know where this Suradanna-li lives?" asked Vakrinza, who could be relied upon to completely ignore the obvious. "I didn't know the honored Suradanna-zsi even had a family. How are we supposed to find her?"

"Oh!" Suradanna stood up, wobbling a little on her twisted ankle. "I think that's me!"

\---

Suradanna enjoyed the muted uproar for a little while, but eventually her ankle bothered her too much to be properly oblivious and polite. The captain raised her eyebrows when Suradanna snapped a response at one of Vakrinza’s impertinent questions, and laid a hand on Suradanna's shoulder.

"Will you let me take you to dinner?" asked the captain. "You've had a very long day."

Vakrinza bristled and Suradanna thought that he would demand to come along, but the captain raised her eyebrows and Vakrinza subsided.

Suradanna had old postmarked letters, written to herself over the last two decades. She had an old watch with the Suradan sigil, and a very genuine-looking engineer's certificate from the firm where she’d supposedly apprenticed. Vakrinza couldn't prove that Suradanna was an imposter, but he had good instincts. He knew it was true.

Such was life. He'd get over it eventually.

"Zuradankiher-zsi," said Suradanna, catching Zuradankiher's hand in both her own before she left. "I know this must be a surprise to you. It's a surprise to me! I don't know _anything_ about trade. My aunt trusted you, I think. Can you be my, I don't know, my manager?"

Zuradankiher smiled, seeing the obvious advantages of working for such an inexperienced young woman. "Let's talk tomorrow, when you've had time to get used to your new position. And just Zuradankiher, please. You make me feel like my mother, otherwise."

The captain helped Suradanna down the stairs, and finally they were alone. The captain half-lifted Suradanna down the last two steps to the street when Suradanna thought she would die before she made it. "I thought you would be turning cartwheels when you were young again."

"I'm selling the horse," grumbled Suradanna. "If anyone will dare to buy it. Do you want to go out? Or can we eat at home?"

"Only if you make dinner," said the captain. She didn't cook. Suradanna wondered what she'd been eating while Suradanna was gone. Travel rations, maybe, or adding to her loan by borrowing Suradanna's money to buy herself meals.

"I like your hair," added the captain. "It's very bright. Like flames."

Suradanna curled her fingers around the captain's. "I have a plan."

"You've said." The captain smiled to herself. “I’m glad you’re back to tell me about it.”

“You haven’t really seen what I can _do_.” Oh, Suradanna’s ankle hurt. Oh, she felt so light. “It’ll be fun.”

The captain looked at her out of the corner of her eye, cheekbones gleaming in the yellow gaslight. Suradanna suddenly and desperately wanted the captain in her bed again.

“You’ll see,” promised Suradanna. “I’ll make Salamadan Port into something new.”


	3. Chapter 3

Things were going relatively well in Salamadan Port. The fire-ships were improving, and the anti-zuiran agents were showing some success. The Dhal war was winding down, and the borders were easier to cross. The port was regaining a little of its faded glory, and House Suradan was lulled into believing that everything would be the same again.

From the outside, Suradanna could see the trap closing around the shareholders. Commerce was changing, and Suradanna wanted to be the one changing it.

This lifetime was very different from her previous ones, different and wonderfully challenging. She'd spent so long thinking through the same problems, lifetimes of experience leading her through careers that blended together in her memory. She'd innovated, but she'd never _invented_.

Suradanna left the management of her shares to Zuradankiher, left her to argue with Vakrinza and quibble about the best use of the land and the sea. Suradanna had other horizons in sight.

The captain was impassive as she watched the sack of canvas fill with gas.

"Sure you don't want to come?" asked Suradanna.

"I think I'll stay on the ground," said the captain. "Tell me again that you won’t crash."

“I definitely won’t crash,” said Suradanna.

Chief-engineer Hwei was already in the basket, knocking a wrench against the firebox to get it to start. Suradanna admitted that didn't inspire confidence, but they'd had two successful test flights in a row, and no fatalities since, what, last year? Eight months ago? Suradanna wouldn’t risk herself on anything she didn’t believe in, and said so.

“If _I’m_ flying, you know it’s safe,” she patted the captain’s hand.

“Because you’ve always acted in your own best interest and never done anything just to prove you could.”

“Exactly!” chirped Suradanna. 

The captain looked at Suradanna narrowly and opened her mouth, but shut it again when Zuradankiher shuffled up. 

Suradanna was always struck by how elderly Zuradankiher looked, even though she was still quite young. Wasn’t she? Suradanna tried to count the years since she’d first hired Zuradankiher, but as usual she’d lost track. She remembered something forty years ago, but that might have been Zuradankiher’s mother…

Anyway, the problem was the shawl wrapped around Zuradankiher’s shoulders against the wind, the thermos clutched in one spindly hand, and the wood and shell cane that she leant against. Her eyes were still bright and her tongue was still sharp.

“Are we trying to persuade Suradanna to stay earth-bound?” she asked. “I wish you better success than I had, captain.”

“You agreed with the _principle_ of air shipping,” said Suradanna.

“It’s the practical application I don’t like.” Zuradankiher sipped from her thermos and glared at the balloon. “We'd have wings if we were meant to fly." 

"We'd have fins if we were meant to swim," said Suradanna. “Instead we have boats.”

“I _can_ swim, if I fall from my boat.” The captain rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “What will you do if you fall from that thing?”

“Listen to your… Aunt,” said Zurandankiher.

“I’m not an aunt,” said the captain.

“Well, listen to your elders.” Zuradankiher gestured with the cane, its tip brushing perilously close to Suradanna’s ankle. “You’re the money behind this business. The money doesn’t need to go up in a testing flight.”

Suradanna laughed. “But I want to! Don’t worry, Zuradankiher, you’ll keep management of my shares if there’s an accident. I wouldn’t wish Vakrinza on any of my cousins.”

Zuradankiher frowned. “I don’t care about the shares.”

Suradanna didn’t think that was _true_ , but she was glad Zuradankiher thought it was. She opened her mouth to answer, but the captain caught her elbow.

“Be careful,” murmured the captain. “Promise me.”

“I won’t crash,” said Suradanna and finally, blessedly, Hwei managed to get the box alight.

Suradanna tightened her fleece-lined helmet and pulled on her gloves. “I’ll see you on the ground!” she called, as she vaulted into the box.

“I can’t believe she’s already thirty,” grumbled Zuradankiher, and that, at least, made the captain laugh.

The balloon lurched as Hwei cast off ropes, but Suradanna clung to the sides of the box and adjusted her weight as instructed until the balloon was smoothly rising, higher and higher until the tall trees surrounding the take-off clearing were only little clouds of green and gray.

Suradanna felt like her stomach was floating out of her ears. It was oddly lovely. She'd thought she would be scared, but instead she was euphoric. Hadn’t the captain always said she was a phoenix? This was where she belonged, in the sky, propelled by fire. Salamadan Port was laid out underneath them, and Suradanna held out a hand and felt the air push at her fingers.

"Hm," said Hwei.

“Don’t do that.” Suradanna felt her smile dimming.

“Sorry.” Hwei tapped a gauge, and then knocked his wrench against the firebox again. “Hm.”

" _Please_ don’t-" said Suradanna, and then the balloon dropped fifty feet. The air tore away her screech.

\---

They landed in a field. Suradanna lay on the grass and tried to shoo away the chickens who kept coming to investigate her; Hwei had the firebox in pieces on some canvas, mumbling to himself as he tinkered.

The captain leaned into Suradanna's field of vision. Suradanna turned her head, and there was Zuradankiher with the carriage, and a little crowd of curiosity-seekers.

"Anything broken?" asked the captain.

"Only bruised." Suradanna thought about sitting up. She ought to, to show the crowd that she was alright. She stayed on her back instead. The grass was soft on her cheek. “Hwei is the best pilot we have, I told you.”

“He’s the only pilot you have,” said the captain. “And I hope the last, after this.”

That jerked Suradanna up. “No, no, no! This is just a blip, a little—It’s really nothing in the history of aviation. In a hundred years we’ll look back at this and laugh.”

The captain didn’t look convinced.

“You’d understand if you went up with me,” said Suradanna. “It’s the most amazing thing.”

“I don’t think I’d like the landing.”

Suradanna caught at the captain's hand, only remembering just in time that they were in public, that she should pat at it rather than press it to her chest. It was scandalous enough that Suradanna was on ‘good terms’ with her great-aunt’s foreign lover.

“This is nothing,” Suradanna said, still clutching the captain’s hand. “If we’d given up on ships every time one sank—“

The captain’s face froze.

“I mean,” Suradanna floundered. Her head still felt like it was in the clouds, and she wanted to pull the captain up with her. “Don’t _worry_ , we know what went wrong, Hwei, don't we know-"

Hwei didn’t look up from the wreck of the firebox. "Missing screw." 

"You see?” asked Suradanna. “This is the future of trade. Flying above the zuiran, above the border disputes. In a hundred years we’ll be able to cross the ocean, I’ll make a bet on it."

"Why does the future of trade involve so many explosions?" asked the captain.

"Please, we haven't had a balloon explosion in..."

"Two months," muttered Hwei.

Suradanna made a face. The captain carefully disentangled her hand.

\---

They went home. The captain, a very generous great-aunt’s foreign lover, kept a guest room in the apartment for Suradanna which Suradanna often pretended to use. The captain didn’t keep servants, and Suradanna did have her own rooms over the balloon workshop. It wasn’t anyone’s business which bed Suradanna actually slept in.

The captain wrote quietly in one of her books. Suradanna tried to work quietly on plans for an investor’s dinner, but it was so hard when the captain was _right there_.

"They can't all go up, not yet." Suradanna shifted her lap-desk and scribbled a guest list on a scrap of paper. "It's not safe, you're probably right, and I don't know that Rakaneth's heart would take it. But I think if the table and chairs were _very_ tall, it might recreate the feeling."

"The ceiling isn't very high here." The captain didn't look up from her work. “And Zuradankiher didn’t like having dinner in the workshop.”

"We'll use the garden." Suradanna switched papers, writing out an order to a furniture-maker. "Under the open sky, that's better. At night, with light coming from fireboxes on the table."

"Will they need step-stools to reach their seats?" asked the captain.

Suradanna added those to the order. "I wish you'd try it. The real thing, I mean, it's—"

The captain bent her head over her book. Her hair was unbound, falling to hide her eyes and the twist of her mouth. Suradanna could leave her alone. She _ought_ to leave her alone. The captain didn't respond well to prying, hadn't she learned that?

"What," she started to say, and changed her mind halfway through her sentence. "What are you writing?"

The captain looked at the book for a long time, and then got up, dropping the book on Suradanna’s lap-desk. "It's a navigation book."

It took Suradanna a few minutes to decipher the captain's handwriting, and then a moment more to realize it was written in phonetic Alameidan. Even in a language Suradanna could supposedly understand the captain's handwriting was somehow both elegantly looped and tightly cramped, beautiful and unreadable.

"It will probably need to be transcribed before it goes to the printers," said the captain.

"Do you mean it to be printed?" Suradanna focused all her attention on one sentence, and painstakingly discovered that it was about the rocks around Dhalmaren Port.

"Might as well." The captain shrugged. "My knowledge will be out of date in another fifteen years. It's probably out of date now, but it's better than most."

Suradanna looked at the ten fat books on the shelves over the captain’s desk, the ones the captain didn’t want anyone to read. “You’re finished with those?”

The captain shrugged, her eyes far away. “I don’t plan to be finished any time soon. I’ve caught up, anyway. Gained a little time to work on something else.”

Suradanna turned pages in the book and smiled. Here was a little drawing of the Salamadan docks. Here was an account of the trade-winds through the south seas, little used now that the fire-ships could push against the wind or through a calm. Suradanna remembered when a poor wind could mean a month’s delay for an important shipment.

“We could get you another ship, now that you’re done with- now that you have time.” Suradanna flipped through the pages again. “You could. No need to add to your debt. You could sell the   
apartment, if you like. It’s yours, I left it to you. It's a nice apartment, I think you could at least buy something large enough to handle cargo. Zuradankiher likes you—"

"I don't think she does."

"—you'd get the House Suradan contracts," persisted Suradanna. “You could do something again.” 

The captain’s focus drifted back to Suradanna. “I have been doing things.”

“Do things _out there_ ,” said Suradanna. “Do things that people can see.”

The captain shook her head. “That’s for you, not for me. You’re the one who has to go places.”

Suradanna flushed at the odd viciousness in the captain’s tone. “You spent centuries going places.”

“I know you don’t understand.” It sounded like the captain was forcing herself to be kind, and Suradanna hated that more than anything. “I never went anywhere. I was home, do you see? It was the world that moved under me.”

“That sounds very poetic,” said Suradanna.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about it.” The captain reached for the book, and Suradanna found that she was pulling it away, closer to her chest.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” said Suradanna.

“You told me you wouldn’t crash,” said the captain.

“You can’t hold me to that.” Suradanna flushed again, half-embarrassed, half-irritated.

“No.” The captain looked away. “I know. Read the book, I’m going to bed.”

“You could read it to me,” said Suradanna. “Your handwriting—“

The captain smiled, but she didn’t laugh. “Read it yourself. You can recommend me a publisher.”

\---  
Suradanna stayed up for hours, paging through the book, the words skimming over her mind. There was a dedication in the front. _To my Phoenix_. Suradanna wondered if that had been written with exasperation or fondness.

She crawled into bed with the captain, hoping that she was asleep. She wasn’t, but she didn’t protest when Suradanna squirmed into her arms and tucked her head into the captain’s chest.

“I don’t know what to do for you,” whispered Suradanna.

The captain sighed. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, and her voice was rough. “I don’t think you can do anything. It was foolish to expect you to stay.”

“I _am_ staying,” said Suradanna. “I’m right here.”

The captain didn’t say anything, but she pressed Suradanna close and her fingers found one of the bruises on Suradanna’s ribs, left there in the crash. Suradanna tried not to flinch, tried not to yelp.

The captain’s grip loosened as she fell asleep. Suradanna tried not to feel disappointed.

\---

Suradanna had her party. The captain didn't attend. Rakaneth fell out of his chair after two glasses of wine, but fortunately one of the waiters caught him before he hit the ground.

Sitting in the chairs didn't feel like flying. It merely felt like being very tall. Suradanna sipped her wine and tried to explain it to Zuradankiher.

"It sounds awful," said Zuradankiher, who had been born in Salamadan port and never left it, never even ridden a horse across the desert or a skiff across a lake. 

"Maybe that's why I like it," said Suradanna. "It sounds like it would be awful, but it's not. There’s something lovely about being surprised."

Zuradankiher swung her legs, and for a moment Suradanna could see young Zuradankiher-li shining out despite her modest old-fashioned skirts. "You sound very much like Suradanna-zsi sometimes."

“I miss her,” said Suradanna. Though she didn’t, not really. She wondered if the captain missed who she had been, before she’d moved to the shore. Before _Dolphin Breathes Fire_ had gone green. She must.

“I’ll say one good thing about the captain.” Zuradankiher sipped her wine.

“What a waste, when she’s not here to hear it,” said Suradanna.

“One good thing,” persisted Zuradankiher. “She made Suradanna-zsi happy. She’d never had a proper friend before.”

Was that true? Suradanna didn't think so. She'd had many friends, even ones who visited from other ports or villages. But she hadn't any lovers in her last lifetime. Maybe Zuradankiher was clinging to the euphemism.

“I never really knew her.” Zuradankiher glared into her wine. It was her fourth glass—Suradanna ought to get her a glass of water.

“Can we ever know anyone?” asked Suradanna, lightly. “By the way, I need some help finding a publisher. Someone interested in navigation. Willing to work with difficult authors.”

“Is there any other kind?” Zuradankiher smiled, distracted from her musings.

“I don’t know,” said Suradanna. “I think this one is unique.”


	4. Chapter 4

It was a good funeral. Suradanna had been to, oh, hundreds. She didn't rank them, but it was silly to pretend that there weren't differences in quality. The singers were good. The chanting was even, low and measured. The service gave Suradanna room to be properly sad, rather than cluttering her heart up with annoyance at the formality of it.

The captain stood uneasily at Suradanna's side. The brightly colored mourning robes should have fit her perfectly, but her shoulders were hunched, the fabric hanging limp around her throat.

"All right?" murmured Suradanna.

The captain shook her head. Her hands were hanging loosely at her side, and Suradanna wanted to catch one between her own. But not here, not now. 

The singers’ voices trailed off. Suradanna found herself murmuring the formal response, though that had fallen out of fashion when she was a child, not even thinking of an apprenticeship. Well, Zuradankiher would probably have appreciated it, if Suradanna had ever had a chance to explain. Send her off with the same words as Suradanna's Uncle Kadawin, hundreds of years ago.

Zuradankiher had been sixty-three, as it turned out. Very young.

"Can we go now?" The captain’s voice was low under the rustle of people gathering belongings and milling around the room.

"In a moment," said Suradanna. "I want to talk to the family."

The captain actually grimaced. "You don't have to, do you?"

"No, but I want to." Suradanna glanced at the captain, bit her lip. "Do you need some air? You don't have to come, you can go outside."

The captain looked at the door, but her jaw was set. "No. I'll come."

Zuradankiher had lived a full life, hadn't she? Two children, and four grandchildren between them. Suradanna bowed to them solemnly and briefly shared the burden of their sorrow.

"If you're ever interested in aviation," she murmured to the eldest grandchild, though she must be five years away from considering apprenticeship. Pity, pity. Suradanna liked having Quier women around her. Still, five years wasn't so long to wait. Zuradankiher’s children already had careers, too established to pry them away only for the sake of a familiar face.

The captain clasped hands with Zuradankiher's children, her eyes skidding restlessly over the grandchildren's heads. "I know Zuradankiher didn't like me much," she said. "But she was still kind. It's a brave thing, to be kind to someone you don't like."

Suradanna caught the captain's arm and pulled her away, trailing polite sympathies. "You can't just _say_ things like that," she hissed, once she thought they were out of hearing.

The captain looked at the sky as they left the shrine, breathing easier in the open. "I wish—"

Suradanna waited, but the captain had lost the end of the sentence. Suradanna still held her arm, guiding her, tethering her. She had an odd feeling that the captain would float away if let go, like a full balloon.

They stopped for tea at a little shop, and the waitress served them with quiet respect. The funeral clothes were too fine for their surroundings, too bright for the everyday.

The captain stared into the steaming water and found her words again. "I've never been to a funeral before."

"Oh?" Suradanna stirred sugar into her tea. "What did you think?"

The captain raised the cup to her lips and drank, too soon, too hot, the water probably burning her tongue. She set it down again, face impassive.

"Once I was at harbor when a storm hit," said the captain. "And the waves pulled at us until the anchor rope broke. We fought to keep the ship under control, to keep it from smashing into other ships or the shore. When the storm cleared we were about a mile out to sea, and our rudder was shattered."

"That sounds terrible," said Suradanna, blowing on her tea.

"No one died," said the captain. "We drifted a little while before we were able to fit another rudder in place. We kept moving."

"So will we," said Suradanna.

The captain looked down at the table. "I wish," she said again, and then fell silent.

"You didn't have to come," said Suradanna. "Maybe next time—"

The captain shook her head. "I needed to be there. Next time—" her mouth twisted. "Well, it depends on who it is, next time."

The tea was getting cold. The captain didn't seem inclined to drink it.

"The shore traps you, doesn't it?" asked the captain. "I didn't understand. I didn't let myself have obligations before, only contracts."

"I'll buy you a ship," said Suradanna, feeling lost.

"I don't want it." The captain shook her head. "I'm not a captain anymore, only—"

Suradanna leaned over the table, pressing her fingers to the captain's mouth to stop her from giving her name to the whole teashop. Then she realized what they looked like; funeral clothes, overwrought conversation, a woman with her fingers covering another’s mouth.

Probably Zuradankiher was the only one left who would have cared about what it looked like. Suradanna had sold her shares to one of Vakrinza’s daughters, a very sensible woman. Suradanna wasn’t part of House Suradan anymore, and few enough people even there could remember the great Suradanna-zsi.

Suradanna dropped her hand anyway, feeling her cheeks burn.

“Didn’t you have funerals at sea?”

“Not really.” The captain looked over Suradanna’s shoulder, eyes unfocused. “Yes. Sometimes. Not like this. How do you watch people grow old, and die, and go to their funerals? And look at all the mourners, and know that someday you’ll be at their funeral too?”

“I just don’t think about it,” said Suradanna, shocked into honesty. “You can’t live like that.”

The captain nodded and covered her own mouth with her hand.

Suradanna remembered what the captain had told her, once, about the other people who had drunk from the spring. The world had weighed on them until they left it. The captain had stayed. Suradanna had stayed. She had thought she knew why, but now she wasn’t sure.

"Anyway," said Suradanna, and cleared her throat when her voice came out rough. "Anyway! We've another launch today, and the new firebox is very promising, only a few incidents so far and none of them fatal—"

The captain's mouth twisted again. Suradanna drank her tea and prattled, trying to steer them away from the wrecks.


	5. Chapter 5

The airship was beautiful. A couple decades of trial and error had determined the shape (an elegant oval), the engine (steam), and the cargo capacity (much reduced by the bulk of the steam engine). Suradanna felt a swell of pride whenever she looked at it.

Hwei would have said that the steam engine was too ungainly to power an efficient vehicle. But Hwei had died in a firebox explosion years ago, and now Suradanna had Zuradankiher’s granddaughter Rynan, who thought she could halve the size of the steam engine in a few more months. A few more years. It depended on the funding, and the laws of physics.

Suradanna really did miss Hwei. He’d treated laws as suggestions, suggestions he could ignore if he was clever enough. 

The last time she’d seen the captain had been at his funeral.

“Hello?” Rynan waved a hand in front of Suradanna’s face. “Are you ready to go up?”

Suradanna blinked and rubbed at her eyes. “Is the cargo loaded already?” 

“Yes, we did the hard work while you were woolgathering.” Rynan grinned. “Do you need a hand up the ramp?”

“I’m not that old yet,” said Suradanna, and proved it by jogging up the ramp even though the clear cold air stole her breath from her lungs. Rynan laughed and followed with measured, steady steps that didn’t shake the ramp.

“Get comfortable in the observation deck,” said Rynan. “I need to talk to the captain.”

Suradanna steadied herself against a wall as the airship shifted against it moorings, but she waved Rynan away when she reached for Suradanna’s arm. “We call them pilots, please. Captains are for ships.”

“Who cares about terminology?” Rynan laughed. “We’re flying!”

\---

The flight to Dhalmaren Port was as boring as anyone could have hoped for. Clear cold air was perfect for flying; no one had forgotten any screws in the engine. Overnight a storm blew in from the sea, but it was a low-hanging squall and Pilot Quiben was able to rise above it. The cargo barely rattled in the hold.

Suradanna sat in a comfortable chair on the chilly observation deck and watched the dark sky drift by. She wished she could still reach a hand out and touch it. Rynan said they had to enclose the deck—something about pressure that Suradanna didn't properly understand. Progress always came with loss.

Rynan dropped into a chair beside her and offered a thermos of tea. “Can’t sleep?”

“I never sleep in the air.” Suradanna wrapped her hands around the thermos. “The first balloons weren’t this comfortable. If you fell asleep you might miss the chance to bail out.”

Rynan laughed. “I wish I’d been there. Even for the crashes or the explosions. Just to _see_.”

“There aren’t many of us left.” Suradanna counted silently on her fingers. A few technicians had held on or even started their own aviation companies. But Hwei was gone, Zuradankiher gone, the captain…

Suradanna thought she was still in Salamadan Port. There had been a few navigation books, which Suradanna had bought and not read. She couldn’t concentrate on descriptions of sandbars and shoals, the currents that didn’t _matter_ anymore. She’d put the navigation books on the bookshelf in her apartment, next to the ten thick books the captain didn’t want her to read.

After another decade the navigation books had stopped appearing. 

“In thirty years,” said Suradanna, “your apprentices will be jealous of what you’ve seen today. You just have to be patient and wait.”

“Thirty years is forever,” complained Rynan. “People should be jealous of me now.”

Suradanna smiled to herself, hunched deeper in her fur-lined jacket, and pretended she was happy.

\---

The landing field was lit with lamps against the encroaching dark, visible from even a mile away. The edges of the field were crowded with people: F’Mar Alliance traders, sightseers, probably a few rivals disguised as idlers. Suradanna was relieved that Pilot Quiben made such a good landing, without knocking into a lamp or a stray Dhal citizen.

It was a perfect setting for the triumph of flight. Suradanna almost skipped down the ramp before remembering her dignity, and traded formal bows with the Alliance leaders. At least the Dhal held on to their own traditions, even as Salamadan Port was embracing _handshakes_.

"My deepest congratulations," said Bakreth F'mar. "Four days from port to port? It seems impossible."

"Oh, it was really three and a half days," said Suradanna. "A late start, you know."

Bakreth smiled. He was very young, for an Alliance leader. All his colleagues were old enough to be grandparents, under the right conditions. He tried to disguise it with a beard, and a dull gray stain under his eyes that unfortunately exaggerated their brightness. Suradanna had enjoyed corresponding with him, and she liked him better in person.

The bearers were already unloading the airship. One of Bakreth's underlings was dealing with Suradanna's quartermaster, counting coin into her palm. Bakreth and Suradanna turned away, playing at unconcern.

"You will stay the night before flying away again?" asked Bakreth. "I never like to journey at night, though I imagine you needn't fear bandits."

"I think Pilot Quiben would appreciate the rest," said Suradanna. "If you think we can stay overnight without losing the airship to souvenir-hunters. Or the army."

"We'll set a guard." Bakreth raised his hands in a shrug. "The army—The war is over. The army rests. But they are watching the skies, now, and thinking of its possibilities."

“Perhaps you should double the guard,” said Suradanna.

It was thrilling to be on the edge of the possible. In a week, Suradanna thought, the Dhalmaren Port Authority would meet and make plans for a special tariff on air cargo. They would need ways to enforce it, either on the ground or in the air. Rynan had plans for a small fast airship, easily launched and handled by one or two technicians. Suradanna wondered if it would better serve her to sell the plans to the Port Authority or to keep them hidden.

Sell them, probably. Someone else would think of it eventually. The goal was never to be unique; the goal was to be first.

"May I ask—" Bakreth hesitated. The yellow lamplight played across his face, highlighting the places where his cheeks would someday line and sag with care.

"Hm?"

"Are you related to Suradanna who owned the Salt Anchor?" asked Bakreth.

Suradanna froze, then hoped that the uneven lamplight concealed her expression. "I don't know. I don't think so. What's the Salt Anchor?"

"It was a pub in Salamadan Port, over a century ago." Bakreth laughed, self-conscious. "I read about it in a book."

"How fascinating!" Suradanna forced a smile. "We _might_ be related, but Suradanna's a common Lalidani name." More common now than it had been when she was born. So many of her business associates had named children for her, which was both flattering and convenient.

"I'll show you the book at dinner," said Bakreth. "If you'd like dinner. It's a very good piece of scholarship."

"I'd very much like dinner," said Suradanna. She'd very much like to see this book.

\---

Dinner was lovely; the book was unsettling. It was a slim volume, not two hundred pages, but full of detail. It traced Suradanna's life from supposed birth to supposed death; the opening of the Salt Anchor and its success. Suradanna wondered why this particular life was so fascinating to the author. Suradanna the socialite had been more dramatic; the founding of House Suradan had been more important. There were still copies of Suradanna's posthumous letter to House Marradon hanging around, as well. You could write a good treatise about that.

Perhaps the author already had. Bakreth thought the book was part of a series. 

Suradanna slept uneasily in Bakreth’s guesthouse, wondering about that series. Wondering about the book itself. There was no author's name on the cover or the title page, but there weren’t many people who would have connected the many Suradannas of Salamadan Port. Were there? There weren’t many people who would be so interested in her.

The publisher was a specialty academic press in Dhalmaren Port. Bakreth was happy to take her there in the morning; Rynan was less ecstatic about delaying the flight home.

"But the weather will hold?" asked Suradanna.

“I don’t care about the weather,” said Rynan. "The Port Authority sent an _inspector_. He wanted to _look_ at things."

"He can't tell how it works just by looking," said Suradanna. 

“The weather’s fine,” said Pilot Quiben, in that quiet voice Suradanna often had to strain to hear. “Today, anyway. Wouldn’t want to guess about tomorrow.”

"We'll leave this afternoon, I promise." Suradanna patted Rynan’s shoulder. “If the Port Authority gets too troublesome, distract them with the plans for that little airship. I think they’d be interested.”

“Of course they’ll be interested, everyone should be interested—“

Suradanna gave Bakreth an apologetic look and left Rynan muttering about aviation, as usual. 

The walk from the field to the press-shop was bracing. Suradanna pressed her hat a little further down her ears and clutched her scarf around her throat. They passed a clot of Dhal army officers in stiff hats and high collars, the uniforms only reminiscent of what Suradanna remembered from her last diplomat’s ball, seventy years ago. She hoped Rynan had the sense to deflect the army’s interest and save the airship plans for the civilian authorities, who were more likely to pay than confiscate.

Bakreth was watching the officers too, with narrow eyes. “It’s a privilege to be able to sit peacefully in my home and read,” he said. “I can only hope it lasts. Ah, here we are."

There was a large display of the Suradanna books, which were indeed a series. Bakreth bought three more, beaming. Here was Suradanna the socialite; Suradanna the founder of House Suradan; the last Suradanna of House Marradon. There were even books of other lives, lives Suradanna had thought unremarkable. But not untraceable, obviously.

“We often put out calls for popular history,” said the publisher, her hands flicking through the books to unearth a little volume about Suradanna the parrot-seller, who Suradanna was almost entirely sure wasn’t actually her. “We were very lucky to receive these as a submission.”

“Which was first?” asked Suradanna.

The publisher thought about it, then tapped the Salt Anchor book. “It’s not just a history of Suradanna,” she said. “Suradanna is a focal point, a way to draw people in. There’s a good chapter on some of the people who worked at the Salt Anchor too, a woman named He Quier…”

“It’s such a clever idea,” said Bakreth. "Perhaps you'll be in it someday, Suradanna. Suradanna the aviation pioneer!"

"Wouldn’t that be fun." Suradanna’s eyes hurt, but she forced a smile for the publisher. "I wonder if you could help me get in touch with the author?"


	6. Chapter 6

There was an address on the edge of the market in Salamadan Port, which terminated at a little box for receiving letters. Light conversation with a nearby stall-keeper led Suradanna to a messenger service that brought letters and package from the box to their recipient. A relatively small bribe to one of the most junior messengers procured directions.

The houseboat was small but well-kept, tethered to the dock by a long rope that allowed it to bob gently in the sheltered cove. Suradanna watched it for a long time before she stepped to the edge of the dock.

There wasn’t any way to knock without leaping off the dock and onto the deck of the boat. Suradanna thought about that. It appealed to her as a dramatic gesture, but she had learned to distrust her instincts, especially when they might result in her meeting the captain while still drenched from falling in the bay. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted "hello" instead. 

Silence. Maybe the captain was out? It would be just her luck. Suradanna tried shouting again.

The front door opened, and the captain peered out.

Her hair was long, braided into a tail that she'd thrown over one shoulder. Her clothes were comfortable, functional, and at least thirty years out of date. Her expression was a little exasperated.

“It won’t do any good to tell you to go away,” she said.

“I don’t know,” said Suradanna. “Do you want me to go away?”

The captain looked at her. Suradanna wanted to brush her hair away from her face, to straighten her tunic, to shift her balance from foot to foot. She forced herself still instead, letting the captain consider the question.

“No,” said the captain. “That’s why it won’t do any good.”

“I read the books,” said Suradanna.

The captain raised her eyebrows. “Which ones?”

“The ones about me,” said Suradanna, becoming exasperated in turn.

“Yes, I know,” said the captain. “But I’ve written several, so—“

“I read—well, I _skimmed_ several,” said Suradanna. “I read the covers.”

The captain laughed like it was forced out of her, covering her mouth to prevent any further slips. 

“They’re my lives,” said Suradanna crossly. “I don’t need to read about them. Except for the one about the parrot-seller, I don’t know who she was.”

The captain still had her hand pressed over her mouth, but she was recovering. “I wasn’t sure about that one. It did seem out of character.”

Suradanna had prepared an opening statement, but she found that she couldn’t recall it. She just looked at the captain, grasping for words that weren’t _why_ or _please_.

“You can come in, if you like.” The captain dropped her hand, and her face was clean of expression. Suradanna thought there was something in her eyes, but the captain was too far away for her to be sure.

Suradanna bit the inside of her cheek and prepared to make the flying leap onto the deck, but the captain bent and turned a winch, drawing the boat close to the dock. Suradanna could step onto the deck instead, her knees buckling a little as she anticipated the rocking of the boat.

Oh, this had been a mistake. Suradanna didn’t know what to do when the captain was this close. When the sea was moving under them. Suradanna wanted to take the captain’s hands, she wanted to press her face against the captain’s chest, she wanted to tear her own hair out by the roots. She should have come when she was calmer, if it was ever possible.

“Suradanna?”

The movement of the boat was gentle, but Suradanna still felt like she was about to fall. She locked her knees against the anxiety, and then she almost did fall.

“Suradanna, breathe—“

Suradanna swayed and the captain caught her arm. The captain pulled her down to sit on the deck, her hands oddly cool on Suradanna’s wrist and cheek.

“Suradanna, I hope you didn’t come here to be sick.”

“N-no.” Suradanna sucked in one breath, then another. “No, n-no, I came to—“

The captain’s eyes were as warm as if she’d never left. Suradanna still couldn't remember her opening statement, but she dredged up the second paragraph.

“I came to tell you that you still owe me a small sum. It may have escaped your notice at the time, but now that you have an income perhaps you could—“

The captain laughed again, and this time it was a little easier. “Really?”

Suradanna pulled away, though it hurt, sat up straight and looked down her nose. “What else is there?”

Once, Suradanna had offered to give up her life on the shore for the captain, and been refused. Then she had opened a place in her life for the captain instead, and the captain had left it. They’d been business partners once, and that had been… It hadn’t been enough. But it had worked.

“You finally got your ship,” said Suradanna.

The captain shook her head. “It’s just a boat. I don’t want another ship.”

“I thought we could be civil,” said Suradanna.

“I don’t think so,” said the captain. “Not after all this time.”

“Then I should go?” Suradanna didn’t try to get up. The boat still felt unsteady, the deck tipping this way and that.

“Listen,” said the captain. “I know it’s hard and you’re not a natural at it, but—“

“I’m good at listening,” said Suradanna.

The captain smiled. “You’re not. You’re good at collecting information, I think. But try to _listen_.”

Suradanna opened her mouth, then slowly closed it. The captain raised her eyebrows, pleasantly surprised.

“I love you,” she said.

“ _What_ —“

The captain covered Suradanna’s mouth with her hand. “I didn’t know where to go, after _Dolphin Breathes Fire_ went down. You were the first person I thought of. The only person I knew who would want me.

“I thought I’d get tired after it, a few decades in. You’d get tired of me. We hardly knew each other, you see? I’d spent more time with any ship’s apprentice than I’d spent with you.”

“You got bored of me,” said Suradanna, muffled by the captain’s hand.

“Shh,” said the captain. “No. Never that.”

The captain looked out at the sea. Her palm was damp against Suradanna’s face, and her voice was careful and lost. “I liked being with you. I liked writing, and I liked watching you run your business. Watching you transform.”

“I shouldn’t have pushed you,” mumbled Suradanna, remembering all the times she’d asked the captain if she needed something to do, if she needed a ship to sail. They could have been happy.

“Please listen,” said the captain. “It was the funerals, in the end. I couldn’t stand them, and I knew that there would be more. A funeral for everyone on the shore. I looked at you and knew that someday one of us would be gone and the other one would be alone, and I knew I didn't want it to be me.”

Her hand slipped from Suradanna’s face and Suradanna caught it, clutching it. “You wrote that,” she accused.

The captain tilted her head and shrugged. “Writing is a good way to think.”

“You _prepared_ that,” said Suradanna. “You knew I would come.”

“Well, I did write the books,” said the captain. “I thought you’d find me eventually.”

“You don’t have to go to funerals,” said Suradanna.

The captain squeezed Suradanna’s hand. “As I said. Bad at listening.”

It was starting to rain, cold winter rain that beaded on Suradanna’s coat and made her shiver when it struck her face. The captain stood up, drawing Suradanna with her. The houseboat’s cabin was—not warm, not really, but secure and dry.

Suradanna sat down at a little desk. It was made of aged driftwood, more suitable as a conversation piece than a real desk. Suradanna wondered if the captain had chosen it or if it had come with the boat. Papers were scattered over the desktop, and Suradanna stared as she realized there were a few pamphlets from her own company, touting the benefits of airships.

The captain followed her gaze. “It seemed silly to pass up the chance to collect material, after all the time I’ve spent in archives.”

“I’m having a lot of trouble imagining you in a library,” said Suradanna.

The captain shrugged. “No one bothers you there. There are too many people on the shore, and the sea—“ She glanced out the little window. “I’m not ready for the sea, I think.”

Suradanna fingered the pamphlets, picked them up to look at the news clippings underneath. “It’s quiet in the air. I’d take you up, if you liked.”

The captain was making tea, ignoring her. She’d never liked the airships. Suradanna had thought—

“You don’t have to risk yourself to impress me,” said the captain.

“I’m _not_.”

The captain’s hands were steady as she poured the hot water. “I don’t think I could go to your funeral. Wouldn’t be invited, anyway.”

“You did go to my funeral,” said Suradanna. They’d had a little ceremony for Suradanna-zsi, just prayers in the trader’s shrine. The captain had been bored. “Of _course_ you’d be invited.”

The captain pushed papers out of the way, setting the tea at Suradanna’s elbow before retreating to the stove. “You can’t live your life like this. Each life a message. ‘Look at me, look at what I can do, look at who I can be.’ I told you that you didn’t need me. I wish you’d believe it.”

“It’s nothing to do with you!” snapped Suradanna. “Can’t you just—I _like_ flying!”

The captain sipped her tea and looked skeptical.

“It’s very nice,” said Suradanna defiantly, inadequately. “The ground small under you. Nothing but air and clouds around you. We have parachutes now, by the way, I imagine you’ve read about them.”

The captain nodded, looking a little taken aback by Suradanna’s vehemence. Good.

“And! And you’re being ridiculous. Living on the shore is worse because you can actually watch people get old? What did you think was _happening_ when you were at sea? Is it that terrible to live with people before they die, rather than just let them disappear, unnoticed, unmourned?”

“I never said I was brave,” said the captain. She was holding her mug like a shield, and Suradanna wanted to rip it out of her hands and throw it out the window, let it bob and sink into the sea.

“It won’t be easier to lose me just because you’re not there,” said Suradanna. “Even if it were, it wouldn’t be worth it.”

The captain moved carefully. She set her tea by the little stove. Crossed the cabin to the desk. Caught Suradanna’s face between her hands and kissed her.

Suradanna pushed back, too hard, too desperate. She wound her hands in the captain’s hair and almost overbalanced the chair. The captain moved with her, holding her close, steadying her.

“I mean it,” said Suradanna, when they broke for air. “I did listen, now you have to listen to me—“

The captain kissed her again, soft and fleeting. “All right. All right. I’ll do my best.”

The chair creaked ominously, and they ended up on the floor again. Suradanna leaned her head against the captain’s shoulder and sighed. “Maybe I did a few things to impress you.”

The captain snorted.

“I’m not giving up the airships, though. It’s the best idea I’ve had in years.”

“Better than the zuiran run?”

“I hope so.” Suradanna hesitated. “We’ll probably have to wait a few centuries to be sure.”

The wind picked up, whipping against the sides of the houseboat. Suradanna’s stomach churned, and she shivered. “Your home is very charming, but I wonder—“

“I’ll get my coat,” said the captain.

It was a long walk from the captain’s dock to the nearest street where they could hail a ride. A horse carriage, or one of those new carriages with an engine… Suradanna glanced at the captain and started looking for a horse carriage instead.

“I like my boat,” said the captain. “I’m not giving that up either.”

“But I can visit?” asked Suradanna. “And you’ll visit me?”

“If you like,” said the captain.

“I’ll do better this time,” said Suradanna. “We can forget the debt. I won’t get annoyed when you tell people your name.”

The captain laughed, and the sound was finally as free and easy as Suradanna had ever heard it. “Then how would I know you cared?”

Suradanna flushed as she finally hailed a carriage. The captain handed her up in to the cab, and then took Suradanna’s hand to steady herself as she climbed in.

“I kept your books,” said Suradanna. The carriage wheels rumbled against the paving stones. “When we get home—When you get to my apartment—Will you read me something?” 

The captain looked out into the streets. They were passing the docks, the great metal ships with glistening ropes of anti-zuiran agent hanging from their sides. A crew was building a long wooden jetty to use as a launch for one of Rynan’s new airships. She’d shown Suradanna the latest plan last week, the intricate metal of the engine that Suradanna knew would become the breathless simplicity of flight.

“Yes,” said the captain. “I think I should.”


End file.
